I ask a lot of myself. Probably too much.

I mentioned before about the folly of taking on too much and assuming the possibilities open to me to impact this world are beyond anything I could ever hope to achieve.

Would it be a surprise to know my “to read” list is almost 2500 books long?

(For now.)

Or that my list of desired comics to read would likely take me until I’m 169?

Or that in the midst of working on the 30ish books I have ideas for, one has become a series of nearly 40 books of its own?

All this gets overwhelming at times and if it’s not realistic to write 2000 words a day seven days a week, then I’ve pretty much screwed myself. I know I can burst up to four or even five thousand, but long term? I can’t miss that many days.

I’m now day four of missing that target (or any target at all) and my brain is obsessing over administrative tasks and this new series idea, and I can’t seem to snap out of it.

I know the solution – write. Just get it done.

Works every time to get me back on track, but man, I need a bit of a rest.

Perhaps when I’m older and writing is my only job, time management will be more simple.

Then again, maybe not.

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